


Tummy Trouble

by LaDemonessa



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDemonessa/pseuds/LaDemonessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair.  Jim.  Baby Talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tummy Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Humor, but more importantly, satire.
> 
> For the nefarious Laura JV who gave me a tummy upset with her last satire then issued this challenge. Enjoy! --Jen

## Tummy Trouble

by JA Ingram

Author's email: cjjingram@wildblue.net or cjjingram@yahoo.com 

Author's disclaimer: Disclaimer or An Ode to Paramount: 

Oh Paramount, how dost thou suck ass?  
Let me count the ways  
You own PetFly  
They own these guys  
Who but for you would be gay  
You own Ron Moore  
A canker sore  
On the ass of god I say  
You hire homophobic shrinks  
Whose diplomas are a lie  
And just when I think  
No lower can you sink  
Whoops, there ya go. *sigh*

* * *

Tummy Trouble  
By JA Ingram  
Sentinel J/B rated R humor, but more importantly, satire 

It began with a simple conversation. 

"I met Rafe's new girlfriend today," Blair said around a mouthful of chicken and rice. 

"Yeah?" Jim grinned, "Lemme guess, blonde?" 

"You got it. It's like he goes for the most clich types he can find. I mean, this girl was tall, built, and dumb as a post." 

"Built?" 

Blair wiggled his eyebrows, "Like a brick shithouse." 

"You interested, Chief?" Jim asked curiously. 

"Naw man. I like dumb brunettes, remember?" Blair snickered then blew a kiss toward his partner. 

"Ah gee, thanks," the cop said rolling his eyes. "I'm touched." 

"Nope, that's for dessert. Anyway, this chick is not only missing a significant amount of brain cells, but she and Rafe kept on...ugh, I don't want to think about it while I'm eating." He shook his head and took another bite. 

"Now I curious," Jim smiled around his glass of iced tea. "What were they doing?" 

"Baby talk, man. I nearly blew chunks all over the bullpen." 

"Baby talk?" 

"Yeah," Blair looked up and grinned, "Like, 'Is us widdle snookum ookums happy to see his baby bear?' and 'snookum ookums is glad to see his iddle biddle baby bear'. I nearly gagged." 

Jim started laughing loudly, "I wish I'd been there! Damn, I can't wait to give Rafe hell over this tomorrow." 

"Heh, when he saw me standing behind him he got all red in the face," Blair snickered. "Oh, and get this: the new girlfriend's name is 'Steffi' with an 'I'. An 'I'! Can we say 'early mid-life crisis'?" 

"Oh I dunno, some people could say the same about me," Jim shrugged in amusement. 

Blair put down his fork carefully and looked him in the eye, "What do you mean?" 

"Well, look at us. I'm a forty year old cop with an ex-wife and a military background living with a new age hippie anthropologist named 'Blair'notice the 'I', who is ten years younger with long hair, earrings, and a dick." 

"So?" Blair frowned. 

"Well..." Jim cleared his throat. "I mean, it kind of...never mind." 

"No no, I want to hear this," Blair insisted. 

"Let's change the subject," Jim waved him off. "So what about the Jags game Thursday? Simon has a friend who" 

"Fuck the Jags, I want to know if you think I'm a part of some 'mid-life crisis'," Blair glared. 

"No!" Jim insisted, "Not at all, I was just saying that if someone who, y'know, didn't know any better was to look at us they'd think that maybe..." 

"Maybe?" he prodded. 

"Well, let's face it, we're not your average couple here." 

"So you're saying that everyone thinks you're having a mid-life crisis and I'm your mimbo?" Blair snorted, "Okay, I'll admit that I may not be John Wayne but I'm not a total teen queen twink either. _I've_ kicked ass a few times too, remember? Just because I have long hair and I'm younger doesn't make me a boytoy." 

"I dunno, I think you'd make a great boytoy," Jim winked saucily. 

"Oh yeah?" 

It didn't take a sentinel to hear the dangerous edge in Blair's tone, "I was just kidding, babe. Honest." 

"Babe? Since when do you call me 'babe'?" Blair got up from the table and glared down at his lover. 

"You don't like it?" Jim asked, trying to hide his smile. 

"No I don't like it, 'hon'!" he tossed back. 

"Sorry," Jim apologized and continued to eat ignoring the man who was looming above him. "By the way, this is good. New recipe?" 

"Yeah." Blair glared, "Glad you like it 'snookums'." 

"I really do," Jim continued to chew happily. 

"Don't chew too fast, sugar plum, you'll get a tummy ache." 

"I won't," Jim assured with a straight face. 

Blair sat back down and sighed, "You are such a shithead, you know that?" 

"Yup," Jim grinned. 

"So, who said I was your boytoy?" Blair asked as he again began to eat his dinner. 

Jim considered lying but he was already too close to pissing Blair off to risk it. "I heard a few of the guys saying some stuff. They didn't call you awhat the hell did you call it?a 'mimbo', but they did comment on the nickname thing." 

"What nickname thing?" Blair asked. 

"Chief, big guy, guppy, Darwin, you know." 

"So?" 

Jim shrugged, "Most couples go through that nickname thing, y'know? And there is that whole thing about you watching everything I eat. I mean, thanks to you I have one of the lowest cholesterol counts in the precinct." 

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"No, it just looks a little..." Jim searched for the correct word, "honeymoonish." 

"You mean girlie," Blair corrected. 

Jim didn't deny it, instead he said, "If it bothers you we could start eating Wonderburgers occasionally." 

"Not." 

"Look, babe" 

"Call me 'babe' one more time and I'm gonna de-ball you, understood?" Blair held up his spoon threateningly. 

"Oooh, a spoon! I'm terrified." 

"You should be." 

* * *

Blair was nothing if not patient. He waited until the best possible moment before making his move. He and Jim were almost done with their paperwork and their shift was ending in less than ten minutes. Rafe and Henri were both sipping their sludgy coffee, eagerly wading through their own reports and looking forward to a nice quiet evening with their respective dates. 

"Oh babydoll, can you pass me the Simmons file?" Blair asked in a slightly louder than normal voice. 

Jim didn't even stop, he merely handed the file across the desk, but Rafe and H both looked up and stared. 

"Thank you, dumpling," Blair smiled politely and kept on scribbling away. 

"No problem, snookums," Jim replied straight-faced. 

Hmmm, "Jim, darling?" 

"Yeah, babe?" the other man looked up curiously, a ghost of a smile lighting up his features. 

Blair's eyes narrowed, "Is we still watching our cholesterol, my iddle biddle balding burger bandit?" 

"We sure is, my hairy little boytoy. I ate that grass and broccoli thing you made and expect a big ole desert when we get home tonight. Is my Hairy Blairy gonna give his Big Jim something nice to chew on, hmm?" 

"Oh fuck..." H breathed. 

"You gotta be shittin' me, man," Rafe blinked. 

"I got your dessert right here," Blair said cupping his 

"Oh wow, look at the time!" Rafe jumped up and headed for the door quickly. 

"Wait! Wait, I'm coming-er-going, uh, hold up man!" Henri took off like a bat out of hell leaving Jim and Blair alone together. 

"Now look what you did," Jim glared. 

"You started it!" 

"I did not!" 

Blair narrowed his eyes dangerously, "You started it with that crap last night." 

"Yeah, well..." 

"Yeah?" 

Jim grinned evilly, "What's the matter, babe? You're always quick with the little throwback comments but god forbid someone should give back a little, huh?" 

"Where's my fucking spoon?" Blair muttered. 

"See? You're a wuss." 

"I'm _so_ not a wuss, man!" 

"You can't stand it, can you? You always have to win, you always have to have the last word" 

"Do not!" 

"See?" 

"Fuck you." 

"Is my widdle baby unhappy?" Jim cooed. 

Blair's face screwed up as though he were about to blow his stack but instead he smiled slowly and batted, yes batted, his eyelashes toward his lover, "Wanna go home and see just how much I can take, my big oily bohunk?" 

Now this was an interesting development, Jim thought. "What do you have in mind...cookie boy?" 

"Cookie boy?" Blair snorted. "What I propose is this: You, me, mucho sex..." 

"Let's go!" Jim was on his feet and grabbing his jacket in an instant. 

"AND!" Blair held up a warning hand, "A little contest to see just how much the other person can take." 

Possibilities, possibilities, possibilities... 

"Which means what exactly?" Jim asked suspiciously. 

"A total squick out. I'll bet you that I can get in the last word, as you put it, before you can." 

"I'm still not getting it," Jim shook his head. 

"Oh, you're gonna get it my randy little butter muffin, and I do mean repeatedly." Blair grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Home James!" 

"Oh boy, oh boy," Jim leered following him to the elevator. 

* * *

The ride home was unusually silent, but then again Jim was concentrating on getting them home double quick. It wasn't often that Blair came up with these little games of his but when he did, whoa momma! 

When they got to their door, Blair turned around and planted a big huge wet kiss on his lips before grabbing him by the shirt front and dragging him inside, "C'mon, my little chickadee, in we go!" 

"Oh goody, goody gum drops!" Jim grinned and followed him into the room, shedding clothes as he went. 

Blair rolled his eyes and kept on going up the stairs, unzipping and tossing clothes so that they sailed down to the floor in a graceful heap. Jim was so intrigued by the whole thing he didn't even think to complain. After all, his own dockers hadn't even made it to the second stair. 

By the time they were in their bedroom, they were both naked, ready, and willing to make the most of it. Blair turned and planted a big ole smackeroo on Jim, and the big guy gave as good as he got. With a small shove, Blair pushed Jim back on the bed and began to lick and suck at him from head to toe. 

"Oh, my big huge hunka love monkey! Oh baby! Oh, you taste so good, you rampaging Viking of lurve!" 

"Viking of lurve?" Jim propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at the young man licking his bellybutton. 

"Whatsa matter, my darling piece of manflesh? Can't take it?" Blair grinned. 

"Oh no, my widdle passion juicer, you go right on ahead and do what you gotta do," Jim chuckled then moaned as Blair went even lower. 

"Oh, I'm gonna make you scream with unbridled ecstasy, luvie dovie pookie butt!" 

"Do me, my juicy little shortcake boy!" 

"Shortcake boy?" Blair glared. 

"Your game, your rules," Jim made a sudden move, pinning Blair beneath his body as he switched from defense to offense. 

Taking his mouth in a deep kiss, he began to lick and suck his way down the other man's chest causing him to moan pitifully. "Oh yeah, baby. Show me how much you want it..." 

Blair opened his legs and positioned himself so they could enjoy a slow, satisfying round of frottage. "Oh yeah, oh honey bunny! Oh, lemme see those beautiful cerulean orbs as you melt into me. Ooooh!" 

Jim stopped, "My what orbs?" 

"Cerulean," Blair gasped out. 

Jim ground his hips then asked, "What's that?" 

Blair moaned, "Oh god, ah shit! Oh uh, gray blue! Can we finish this please?" 

Jim bit his ear lobe then started to thrust his hips in a steady rhythm which had Blair gasping and sweating profusely. "Spell it." 

"C-Elook, just fucking do me, okay? AH!" 

Jim grinned saucily and reached for the 'party favors' on the night stand. He pulled back long enough to roll on the rubber and lube up before getting back down to business. "You want me to come inside you, passion possum?" 

"Now, goddammit!" 

"Roll over on your little tummy, sweet thing," Jim snickered as he prepared him hurriedly. 

"Oh yeah, give it to me, big daddy! Oh god!" 

"Ah shit!" Jim jumped back and shuddered, rubbing his hand over his face, "Yuck! Big daddy? Where the hell did that come from?" 

"Whahuh? What are you doing over there?" Blair asked. 

"Well, that erection's down for the count," Jim stomped off toward the stairs. "Now I'm thinking of my dadtalk about a mood killer!" 

"W-wait! Man, don't leave me hanging here dammit!" Blair yelled. 

"You win, babe!" Jim waved over his shoulder as he headed downstairs. "I'm getting a soda, want one?" 

Blair sat up in bed and gaped, "I win? That's it?" 

"Like I said, your game, your rules. I'm squicked beyond any level of horniness thanks to you! Congratulations," Jim yelled up from the livingroom. 

The other man plopped back against the pillows and groaned, "Can't we just---I mean, want to play best two out of three? Jim?" 

"Jimbo? 

"Jim-a-rooni?" 

"...shit." 

The End 

PS: You know, the sick thing is that while I was writing this sucker I was listening to 'Ave Maria'. Yup, my grandmother just rolled over in her grave.  <g>


End file.
